Part 27 (2/2)

V.

And who can doubt the right it has to lie So near his heart, and there to sob and sigh, And there to shake its octaves into notes With bird-like throats.

VI.

Ah! see how deftly, with his lifted bow, He strikes the chords of ecstasy and woe, And wakes the wailing of the sprite within That knows not sin.

VII.

A thousand heads are turn'd to where he stands, A thousand hopes are moulded to his hands, And, like a storm-wind hurrying from the north, A shout breaks forth.

VIII.

It is the welcome that of old was given To Paganini ere he join'd in Heaven The angel-choirs of those who serve aright The G.o.d of Light.

IX.

It is the large, loud utterance of a throng That loves a faith-employ'd, impa.s.sion'd song; A song that soothes the heart, and makes it sad,-- Yet keeps us glad.

X.

For look! how bearded men and women fair Shed tears and smile, and half repeat a prayer And half are shamed in their so mean estate, And he so great!

XI.

This is the young Endymion out of Spain Who, laurel-crown'd, has come to us again To re-intone the songs of other times In far-off climes.

XII.

To prove again that Music, by the plea Of all men's love, has link'd from sea to sea All sh.o.r.es of earth in one serene and grand Symphonic land.

XIII.

Oh! hush the while! Oh! hus.h.!.+ A bird has sung A Mayday bird has trill'd without a tongue, And now, 'twould seem, has wandered out of sight For sheer delight.

XIV.

A phantom bird! 'Tis gone where all things go-- The wind, the rain, the suns.h.i.+ne, and the snow, The hopes we nurs'd, the dead things lately pa.s.s'd-- All dreams at last.

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